


Folly, Age, and Cold Decay

by CloverTheGrand



Series: Doubt Thou the Stars are Fire [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fuckbuddies, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Rebound Relationship, Requited Unrequited Love, Sort of? - Freeform, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:28:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26299432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CloverTheGrand/pseuds/CloverTheGrand
Summary: While Crowley would let Gabriel warm his bed, his mind was often elsewhere. But the two did have established routines after their sessions. Even so, perhaps those were but merely red herrings.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens) (Unrequited), Crowley/Gabriel (Good Omens)
Series: Doubt Thou the Stars are Fire [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1909276
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	1. Folly

**Author's Note:**

> So uh yes, I have decided to expand "All our Yesterdays" into a series! I still gotta write up a follow-up for the first fic, but  
> was in the mood for hurt/comfort so I guess this fic is first up. 
> 
> I'm still trying to figure out their dynamic for this universe, so this work is still early in Crowley and Gabriel's relationship when Crowley seeks Gabriel as a sort-of rebound but they're still trying to sort their feelings out for each other.

Sometimes, during the evenings, Crowley would let Gabriel stay and warm his bed. 

Sometimes, during the evenings, Crowley would curl up against his back, wrap him in his arms, and tuck his face into his neck. During the dark hours of the mornings, when London’s towers glowed like stars and the sky was deep indigo, Gabriel would trace the veins of Crowley’s hands, admiring their valleys and summits, memorising each and every freckle. 

He would admire how Crowley was so close to him, even though such close contact was merely routine by now. With their bodies bare, it would seem like there was nothing for the other to hide.  Gabriel had memorised what Crowley’s face would look like in this dim light. His dense eyelashes fringing his round eyes. His eyebrows, a pair of bold, painted arches. His hair, disorganised into messy red ringlets. Gabriel would feel the rising and falling of Crowley’s chest, a habit learnt from millennia of living on Earth, and his warm breath on his nape, like a dragon protecting his treasure. 

During these hazy hours, Gabriel could think that this one was his. 

“Angel…” Crowley murmured in his sleep. 

Gabriel’s purple eyes would widen, then he would sigh. While they could physically be together like this, it was clear that Crowley’s mind was elsewhere. Gabriel would continue to trace his hands anyway, carved out of the dark by the lights of London. 

This was nice while it was lasting. 


	2. Age

Crowley wakes up and he smells the aroma of brewing coffee. He cracks his bones, crawls out of bed, and gets dressed. 

Gabriel is sitting in the living room reading a newspaper, a cup of coffee in his hand. Crowley’s cup is placed on the coffee table, ready for him to grab.  A black eye coffee, with 3 espresso shots and several spoonfuls of sugar. His favourite.  He lifts the coffee and savours the fragrant smell, then sipped. Just the right temperature, right ratios, and right sweetness. An approving hum escapes his lips. 

Gabriel has been figuring out how to brew Crowley’s just the way he likes it because Gabriel likes unravelling Crowley in the little ways. However, Gabriel is strangely quiet today. He’s currently deep in thought, furrowing his eyebrows while wrapping his head around the logistics of this paper, his own coffee ignored and growing cold. 

“I need to ask you about these papers,” Gabriel starts. “They’re more nonsensical and irreverent than the other ones you’ve got. Interesting, yeah, but something is off, and I can’t put my finger on it.”

Crowley arches a brow as he looks at the headline, and then he bites his lip to stifle a chuckle. “Ah. All publishers need a distinct style, yeah? Gives them an edge in competition.”

“Yeah, but not to the point of spreading fake information. We read newspapers to know what’s going on, not be misinformed.”

“What if people  _ want _ to be misinformed?”

Gabriel looks at Crowley, puzzled. “Why would they want that?”

“Entertainment, perhaps?”

Gabriel blinks. “Oh.  _ Oh _ .” And Crowley thinks that he has figured it out. But Gabriel only shakes his head and sighed theatrically. “Well, that’s sad. This paper doesn’t even take itself seriously, it’s making a joke of itself to make a profit. No wonder everything about its contents is so strange. I mean seriously. What respectable human would name their bulletin  _ The Onion _ ?”

A large stupid grin has been blooming on Crowley’s face throughout the whole exchange. “‘S satire, Gabe.”

“What?”

“Satire.  _ The Onion _ is a comedy newspaper. ‘S not exactly true.”

“You mean this is purposefully fictional?”

“Sometimes.”

“Sometimes!”

“Some of these are based on real events. Humans are very clever and observant with their comedies. They bring up just how absurd human politics can get.”

Gabriel blinks, then looks at the paper in his hands. “Well. I could tell which stories are fake and real,” he reassures.

But Crowley is grinning ear to ear, a mischievous twinkle in his goldenrod eyes. He leans forward and rests his chin on his hand. “Tell me. How much were you convinced that America was repaying their China debt with celebrity autographs?”

Gabriel is about to reply, but he stops. His whole face flushes, and he snickers. “No. Not at all.”

“Sure you did.”

“Mark my word. I told you, I thought something was off!”

For as much talk about the importance of communicating to become informed, the rest of their time is spent with lighthearted banter that did not necessarily go anywhere. However, the conversation ends too soon and they are to part ways. So Gabriel silently stands up takes his coat from the coat rack. He says goodbye, then disappears in the wave of a hand. 

Once Gabriel leaves, Crowley lingers at the empty space, and then he goes about his day. He’s got a lot to do today. Tend to his plants. Take Bentley out for a spin. 

Visit Aziraphale.


End file.
